


Tiny Terror

by Catsitta



Series: Assorted Oneshots [5]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horrortale (Undertale), Bara Sans (Undertale), Bittebones!Lamia!UF!Sans, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Plushie Murder, Humor, Lamia, Multiverse, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Swearing, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, bittiebones, lamia sans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 10:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19788916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsitta/pseuds/Catsitta
Summary: Axe’s pet lamia is named Terror for a reason.Bara HT!Sans/Lamia UF!Sans | Oneshot | Humor





	Tiny Terror

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a discord chat about [this picture](https://catsitta.tumblr.com/post/186239279322/and-this-is-how-horrortale-sanses-are-made-july).

“uh, bud, what happened to your hands?”

Axe peered down at the small, unblemished version of himself that stole his name. Sans. The classic. The original. The unfortunate native hosting the fragments of the multiverse shunted from their home worlds. They would go back if they could. Well. Most of them. Axe had his brother and all the food they could eat. He had no plans of going back to his universe, even if it was found possible. In fact, if the runt decided to force the issue...Heh. Well, who was better to dispose of Sans than a version of himself that wasn’t afraid of a little blood and dust? 

Flexing his phalanges, he let his smile widen, swollen, crimson eyelight quivering in the socket. There were bandages loosely hanging from his digits and some had already fallen away, revealing the scratched and cracked bone beneath. Sans lifted his browbones, still waiting for a response, but after a full minute of Axe’s cheerful staring, he shrugged. 

“kay. if you need any healing, paps would be happy to help.”

And with that, Sans inched out of the doorway and into Axe’s apartment, reluctantly checking to make sure there were no literal skeletons stowed in closets. Sugar wasn’t here. Which meant it was just Axe and Sans alone. Or...it would have if not for the presence of a tiny new guest.

He found him a couple days ago picking a fight with a raccoon over some cat chow his neighbors left out for the strays. Why the little lamia bothered, he’d never know, since lamia’s couldn’t eat kibble. Maybe he thought he could jump the raccoon and eat it. Feisty little snake. Sugar had made a sad noise at the sight and he knew in an instant that letting the lamia get his puny ass kicked was going to make his brother cry, so he scruffed them both and chucked the raccoon down the hall. All parties left the confrontation uninjured. 

Which left Axe with a hissing, biting and screeching lamia wrapped around his wrist. He was obviously a bittie, given his small size, no more than three feet long, and skeletal nature. But what drew his attention was the vivid red of the ectoplasm tail, the transparent pseudo flesh stretching from tail tip all the way up to his collarbone, strips of color visible through the off-white of his ribs. It looked like blood. Axe barely noticed the bites as he brought the irate lamia indoors and stuffed him into a box. Sugar asked what he was going to do with the creature, and after a long moment of consideration, he declared they were going to the vet. That’s what Edge did when he dug a feral Doomfanger II out of the trash.

Now, a few days and a couple replacement fangs later, Axe had a pet. His first one that wasn’t a rock. One might think someone as notoriously lazy as a Sans would forget to feed a snake...but Terror wasn’t one to let himself be forgotten. Or caged. Or be told no. The reason Axe’s hands were a mess was because he put Terror back into his tank after the lamia escaped (again) and he took offense when he wasn’t allowed to chew through Axe’s slippers. In the past three days alone Terror made him bleed multiple times, ate a mouse, murdered a bottle of ketchup and was only pacified when he found some of Red’s mustard that he left behind one time, and ruined a lamp cord. It was great. Not a down moment. He was a clever, mini murder machine.

A yelp of surprise from the living room had Axe wandering over, unsurprised by what he found. Sans was sidestepping Terror, who was once more free of his tank, and unhappy with the presence of a stranger in his territory. He didn’t like his territory, but it was his! Golden fangs flashed as he lunged at Sans’ slippers, and he grumbled when he face planted into the carpet. Little snake was still adapting to the weight of a collar around his neck and the existence of a sweater on his upper body. If he insisted on wandering instead of sunbathing under his heat lamp, then the fabric was required, if only to keep his soul more insulated and warm. 

“hey, i need to _axe_ you a question, buddy-o pal. you get a new guard dog?” Sans climbed onto the couch, gaze fixed on Terror, who was grinning up at him with feral malevolence. Normal animals general weren’t intelligent enough to be considered capable of willful sadism or evil. But bitties? Even more animalistic ones were generally on par with a small child, and lamias were far from stupid. Most domesticated variants like Terror could hold conversations, understand basic mathematics, and could both fathom and grieve death. Terror just happened to be an aggressive asshole that enjoyed breaking things to show his displeasure. And while he hadn’t spoken yet, there was evidence over the past couple days that he understood what Axe and Sugar said. 

“...isn’t he cute?” 

“as frisk on a dusting spree.” Fortunately for Sans, Terror spotted something else of interest and was now squeezing under the couch. “he permanent?”

“...yes…”

Terror made a triumphant noise and shot out from under the couch, wielding his prize. He slithered rather speedily up onto the kitchen table and promptly began celebrating by ripping apart what he found. Probably a sock. He liked biting soft things. Probably because it reminded him of mice. Or maybe because it made his replacement fangs ache less while they healed. Axe was going to let Terror have the unfortunate sock when Sans made a choked sound.

Axe squinted, and noticed that Terror’s prey was indeed not a sock, but a plushie. A plushie that looked remarkably like Sans himself. Sugar refused to leave the apartment for the first few months after they moved in, practically falling apart without a ceiling and four walls to keep him safe. So the other Papyruses brought him kits and hobby books, and eventually, his brother found a love for making dolls. He lovingly crafted one of all the skeleton crew members, before moving onto the monarchs and other monsters. 

“...that’s not yours, terror,” Axe deadpanned, before chuckling, deeply amused by Sans’ unspoken horror. Terror narrowed his sockets at him and growled, digging his teeth in deeper, causing the soundbox inside to activate. Paps provided the recording of Sans, which meant the toy had a series of terrible excuses and puns it would ramble through when squeezed. Terror made an irritated noise as he continued to chew. When the noise kept coming, his eyelights flared and he bit the arm, ripping it from the body in one clean bite. “...heh, that’s not very nice, either.”

“no wonder your hands are covered in bandages.”

“it’s been a _bloody_ good time.”

“any possible way you could, ah, keep him from nibbling on my toes while I do the inspection?”

“...i guess…”

“great. perfect. I’ll just—” Sans stepped off the couch right as Terror sank his teeth into the skull of the plushie and ripped it open, stuffing bulging out like cottony brains. Add in some red and you’d almost have the spitting image of Axe in miniature. Sans noped out of the room and went on his nosy way to check for suspicious stains and the like. Whatever. 

Axe watched Terror mutilate the plush for a little longer, not happy that he was destroying his brother’s hard work, but not upset either. To be fair, he understood the urge to mangle something beyond repair, damn the consequences. Deciding that he best save the plush so that Sugar could fuss and fix it instead of having to start again and waste materials on something that looked that name thief, he reached down and grabbed it. That earned a screech of ire and a bite. 

“heh. sorry little snake, but you’ll have to try harder than that. that’s barely a love nip compared to what undyne left me,” Axe tugged at the gaping crack in his skull with his free hand, half whiting out his vision from the spark of agony and disrupted magic. He blinked with the return of reality, and then went back to prying apart Terror and the toy. Terror hissed, writhed and wailed, even going as far as to coil around Axe’s hand and wrist, to keep his own arms wrapped around the plush. “...you’re lucky you’re cute and barely qualify as a mouthful...underground i’d have eaten you by now. so small and weak…”

He slid the plush out of the lamia’s grip, and Terror let out a scream like he was being murdered, “MINE! MINE! MINE!”

Oh~?

“is something going on in here?” Sans returned uninvited like human toe fungus. 

“...he said his first word…” Axe laid the plush down and pet Terror affectionately, earning more bites for his effort until Terror noticed Sans. He ceased his attacked and coiled defensively around his arm, slitted eyelights glowing suspiciously. “...i think terror hates your voice…”

“your voice and my voice are the same.”

“...then it must be your pretty face…”

Sans rolled his eyelights, “i’ll pass on the manly scars. anyway, everything looks good. try not to let murder mc murder face there bite anyone that isn’t you.”

“...there go my weekend plans….”

“the sad thing is I can never tell when you’re being serious or not,” Sans said, shaking his skull and heading for the door. Likely to escape the wrath of a still irate snake. Once he was out of sight and his footsteps gone, Terror perked up, chomped on Axe’s middle finger for good measure, then tried slithering towards the plush again. 

“...no…”

“MINE!”

Axe looked at the lamia, the door and back at Terror.

“sorry bro.”

It was more than a little gratifying watching Terror rip the plush to shredded scraps of fluff, and bash the sound box against every sharp corner in the room until it finally stopped punning. To his surprise, when he was done with his rampage, Terror slithered up into his lap where he sat and onto his chest. With a lazy yawn, Terror curled up above Axe’s soul, and for the first time ever, fell asleep.

As he drifted off, Axe swore he heard the soft utterance of “MINE” one last time.


End file.
